


Rich People Can Afford Fancy Menorahs

by chronicAngel



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Channukah, F/F, F/M, Hanukkah, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Multi, POV Third Person, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: Eight stories for the eight days of Channukah on how various members of the family first wormed their ways into the celebrations.





	1. Clark

"What are you doing here?" His voice is flat, arms crossed over his chest as he tries to glare down the man standing in his doorway.

Dick looks up at him and beams, tugging on one of his hands. "Bruce, you're supposed to invite your family for Channukah."

"I know that. So why is he here?" He nods his head toward Clark, who stands in his doorway with a bright red box in his hands and a casserole in a glass dish balanced on top of it. Snow has collected in the knit of his hat and a couple of individual flakes have yet to have melted on his plastic lenses, and Bruce wonders if he's overheating in the tacky sweater vest over his button up shirt.

He ducks forward to look around the interior of Wayne manor as though he's planning to take pictures, and Bruce raises a brow at him to emphasize his point. "I heard that someone likes Superman," he explains, gesturing at the ten-year-old who still lingers at Bruce's side. He clears his throat, once again glaring pointedly at the reporter. "Which is why I brought pictures." Clark glances at Dick, smiling. "Of Superman. Because that's my job."

Though Dick straightens and grins at his side, Bruce still leans against the door frame looking doubtful. Clark's face falls a fraction, and he gives a nervous glance at Dick, who must nod because he pipes up with, "And green bean casserole? Mom made it."

Heaving a sigh, Bruce moves out of the doorway. Clark lumbers in with a grin as though he actually thought he might leave him out in the snow, but Bruce thinks they both know that he wasn't going to despite the distinctly cold welcome. Alfred collects his coat and the casserole while Dick mumbles something about missing food that was local to any place but Gotham. It's one of the few times he remembers that Dick has traveled within the country just as much as he has, if not more, and he has to wonder just how many weird Midwestern foods the two of them have had.

"So, green bean casserole?"

"Oh, yeah. Mom makes it every time I visit for the holidays, it's one of the things from my childhood you can't get in Metropolis." Upon further prompting, Clark explains the history of green bean casserole and why it's so popular in the Midwest, how it was first introduced by the Campbell Soup Company in 1955 when his mom was in her thirties and got wildly popular because green beans were a common crop in farming towns like Smallville. Kate arrives at the tail end of a story about Father's Day when Clark was eleven and he tried to make one by himself, which resulted in a broken hotdish and Cream of Mushroom soup all over the floor. Then Kate asks what a hotdish is and they all tuck themselves into one of the couches while Clark laughs through an explanation that it's like a casserole.

They sit around exchanging stories for almost an hour while Alfred prepares dinner in the other room. Clark's Father's Day disaster leads to Bruce telling Clark the story of Father's Day when he was eight, and how they spent it in the hospital because Kate and her sister were only a few days old, and then Clark asks about Kate's sister since he's never heard about her before, and then they're all laughing about the coincidence that is Kate's birthday being the same day as National Superman Day, which is one of Bruce's least favorite holidays. Dick and Clark laugh about the time that the circus stopped in Cawker City, Kansas and made less money as an attraction than the World's Largest Twine Ball when Kate finally pipes up with, "Bruce, it's almost nine. We should light the candles so you can get the kid to bed."

"I'll get the menorah!" Dick seems so excited about it that Bruce doesn't even point out that he doesn't know where it is.

Ten minutes later, he comes back without having asked for Bruce's help holding his mother's menorah. The light from overhead reflects off of the silver until Alfred enters the room, flicking the switch on his way in. Bruce and Kate say the prayers from memory as they light the candles while Alfred and Clark stand by, but the words are written in smooth black lettering on a crisp piece of paper so Dick can say them along, occasionally stuttering on a syllable he's not familiar with. Dick tries to get Alfred to set up the guest room for Clark, pleading with Bruce to let him stay while they walk Kate to her car, but before Bruce has an opportunity to say yes or no, Clark dismisses himself. "I don't want Lois to wait up for me," he explains. He grabs his camera from his car before he leaves, taking a single shot of the menorah lighting up the sitting room as he grins between Bruce and Dick. "She'll kill me if I don't get at least one." At the door, he gives Dick a fist bump and manages to pull Bruce into a begrudging but respectful handshake. As he turns to go back to his car, Dick straightens. "We'll see you next year!" Bruce has to hold in a groan. Now it's a promise.


	2. Barbara

Steam billows into the air from their mugs and mixes with her breath as it turns to a frosty mist in the air, accompanied by a laugh he could never grow tired of and a cold that bites at Dick's ears but is fought off from his fingertips by the warm ceramic in his hands. She holds her hand over her mouth as though she's trying to physically hold in the sound, though her gloves do little to stifle it.

"Come on, Dick! You don't have to be such a... well, you know." She's still fighting off snorts, and he grins at her.

"I wasn't!"

"Oh, please! You were all, ' _You're a little young to be drinking coffee._ '"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She gives him a skeptical look that makes him crack, and then they're both laughing again. "Well, you are!" He defends after a minute, putting his mug down on one of the many tables in the outdoor dining area of the little café that's halfway between her apartment and Gotham U and holding his hands up in front of him. "Bruce says he didn't start drinking coffee until he was 22! And you should know I'm not allowed to touch the stuff until I'm at least eighteen." As though to highlight his point, he takes a sip of his hot chocolate with a grin.

She sips from her coffee, which is as black as the sky is above them. Last he checked, it was only about six thirty, but night already comes early in Gotham, and the December month doesn't help. Then she says, "Bruce is a liar. Every kid sneaks a cup of coffee at 12."

He laughs. "Even you? I bet the Commissioner would love to hear that." She smacks his arm, and in retaliation he swipes the knit hat off of her head. He's been slowly inching taller than her in the past few months, and he uses the two inches that he has on her now to his advantage, holding the green wool high above his head. It's not even a minute before she tackles him into the snow, which immediately starts melting into his sweater.

Their breaths puff into the air in the space between them, and he realizes quickly that he's on his back, underneath her in the cold. The snowflakes that still drift from the sky catch in strands of her hair and pile on top of decorative umbrellas around them that probably should have been put away weeks ago. He tries to pretend that his breathing is so much of a struggle and his heart is beating so hard because of the rush he still has from the laughing and the struggle to keep her hat out of her hands, and not because of their proximity. He tells himself that he shivers because his back is cold and damp, and not because he can feel her breath tickle his nose whenever she exhales. He can count the heartbeats before she snatches her hat and rolls off of him.

He doesn't realize he's still laying on the ground until she offers him her hand after a minute, tugging her hat back down over her ears with the other. "That reminds me," she starts once he's up. Her eyes are bright behind her new glasses, and her cheeks are flushed from what he can only assume is the cold. "I have something to give you." Curiously, he raises a brow at her while he brushes the snow off of his sleeves. When he looks up from his sweater, her face is only a few inches away from his again, and he freezes up for a moment like the mounds of white that coat the ground around them. His heart is stuttering in his chest again. He rests his hands on her shoulders as though he doesn't know where to put them as she leans closer, and her face is only an inch away from his when he's shaken out of his own thoughts.

"Shit!"

Face warm, he takes a step back from her, trying not to focus on her somewhat hurt (but mostly just confused) expression. "I'm sorry, Babs. It's not you. It's..." He laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. The thought that he's going to leave her here when she was about to kiss him so that he can go spend time with his family feels notably ridiculous to him and everything in his seventeen-year-old brain is screaming at him not to, but the words are already leaving his mouth. "It's the first night of Channukah. I should be at home with Bruce and Alfred."

She's quiet for a minute, and then she laughs. He's not sure which causes him more anxiety. Still, he stands there without saying anything, partially because he isn't sure what to say nor does he have the confidence that he _could_ say _anything,_ and partially because he's still waiting for her to stop laughing and respond. Eventually, she pipes up with, "Oh," and seems to think it's very clever. "I just didn't think..." She starts again, then waves it off. "Happy Channukah. I'd... like to come with you, if I can." She's very quiet now, but her face is anything but shy.

The car ride back to the manor feels quieter than it is. They aren't talking to each other, but it's comfortable as music plays softly in the background from his radio; Barbara's classical instead of his pop, and she hums along with the cellos. It's somehow different from listening to classical music with Bruce, who seems content to just let it play like a white noise without paying much attention as though it's simply another mask that he wears, or Alfred, who will relax with classical pieces and a book and tune the rest of the world out. She hums and drums her fingers along with the tempo and lets her eyes fall closed behind her lenses as though she's trying to absorb the symphony, and if he wasn't driving he'd be content to watch her like that for hours. Instead he focuses on the road and the feeling of her silent company. It doesn't even occur to him that he didn't ask if she could come until they're pulling up to the manor, where Bruce stands in front of the door tapping his foot impatiently.

"We've been waiting for you for an hour, Dick. Where have you..." His eyes move from Dick's guilty expression to Barbara, who sits in the passenger seat with a blush like she's a twelve-year-old who's just been caught sneaking a cup of coffee in the middle of the night. Bruce straightens and steps away enough to let them get out of the car, and then he turns to Barbara with an expression that's mostly confused. "I... thought you were Catholic?" His tone comes off like a question.

He seems more perplexed than angry, which Dick takes as a positive sign. Like he's ten again, he automatically says, "Bruce, you're supposed to invite your family for Channukah."

She adds, helpfully, "My dad is Catholic. I'm like... Catholic: the Abridged Series."

With a sigh, Bruce seems to admit defeat, leading them both inside the house. Dick knows that Barbara has been in the manor before, at galas with her father and study dates or lunch dates with him in the two months they have technically and very unofficially been a "thing", but there's a way that her face lights up every time she first steps inside that makes his heart catch. Her eyes go slightly wider than usual, like she's trying to soak up everything around her without everyone else noticing as though she won't be invited again, and her cheeks heat up just a little bit.

They reach the sitting room, where Alfred, Kate, Clark, and Lois sit around exchanging polite conversation. They all hold themselves differently. Alfred's posture is warm but still proper, Kate's is like someone who gave up long ago on being perfect, Clark's is a stereotypical country slouch, and Lois holds herself like she's doing an interview.

The conversation is extended to them easily and immediately, but doesn't last long before Bruce and Kate are shushing everyone. For the first time since he was adopted, Dick doesn't run to retrieve the menorah, as the silver already rests on the little table that they all sit around.

"I never got to give you your present," she says bashfully after everyone else's gifts have been exchanged and most of the family has left.

He stands across from her in the doorway while Kate snoozes on one of the couches behind him. Clark and Lois left fifteen minutes ago with promises that they'd see everyone soon and standard snapshots of the Manor's interior, leaving only what's left of the extended Wayne family and Barbara.

His face heats up as the gap between them closes. Her lips are warm and surprisingly soft against his, and he supposes that chapstick really is effective when you use a tasteless brand so you aren't constantly lapping it up. He's painfully aware of the fact that it's almost nine, where her curfew is still eight despite the fact that she turned 18 three months ago, but he chooses to rest his hands on her hips and kiss her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually very easy for me to write, but my laptop must have decided it was cursed, because every time I made it about halfway through my computer would restart and I'd lose all of my progress. The moral of the story, kids, is to always keep a back-up, and update it more frequently than I typically update mine.


	3. Garfield

You don't get to have a normal life when you're green. You don't get to go on dates and get a normal job, you don't get a secret identity like all of the other heroes, and you don't get to just pretend that everything's fine when it isn't because you don't get to hide _anything._

Life is hard. It's hard and nobody understands.

Garfield stands in front of the door to Wayne Manor wearing as much covering clothing as he can. It's partially to hide his green everything, but mostly because he is from Africa, which never got this cold in the winters.

A scarf is settled just under his nose, which he thinks might actually be turning red due to the chill, and he wears a long coat over a thick sweater, neither of which keep him warm enough as he huddles his whole body inward. His hat hides the pointy tips of his ears, as well as engaging in a one-on-one battle with frostbite, and is pulled down almost to his eyebrows. Snow and winter frost still nip threateningly at his everything.

The first thing he notices about Bruce Wayne is that he's much taller in person. Gar has met neither Bruce Wayne nor Batman in person, and has only had Dick's praise and family pictures to go off of, which suddenly stopped being a thing a couple of months ago when Dick started running around in skintight black and blue and calling himself Nightwing.

The second thing he notices is the kid standing at his side. He's a couple years younger than Gar, and if this is the Jason that Garfield has recently started hearing about, he's another year younger than Dick. One thing is for sure, and it's that he certainly looks like a street kid, even if he currently looks like a particularly well-dressed street kid in his dorky sweater (just a regular sweater, not a Christmas sweater) and slacks. He doesn't wear any shoes though, and the fuzzy socks on his feet are dirty and have a hole in heel of the left one as though he's been wearing this same pair every winter for a couple years now. His hair is greasy, as though he's used to showering once or twice a week and Bruce and the Alfred that Gar has also heard so much about have still been tiptoeing around making him because he's new.

He never was a street kid, but he's seen them everywhere. He lives in New York, and there are whole neighborhoods composed of street kids and the drug addicts that likely lured them into their current positions. Of course, no city is as violent and riddled with strays as Gotham is, but Gar has seen enough to know the signs. He's seen enough to know when a kid's been struggling to survive on their own for too long and suddenly find themselves in the right place, at the right time, and thrown into a situation that's possibly (probably) much better than anything else they've ever been through. He empathizes with Jason, even if he can't sympathize with him, which is why he offers the kid a high five when he sees him.

With an incredibly suspicious expression, Jason slaps palms with him and then slinks further behind Bruce as though he expects the adult to act as a wall. "I'm Garfield," he offers, beaming at the two of them. "Everyone just calls me Gar though. Garfield is too fancy-sounding, ya know? I'm a friend of Dick's."

"A _green_ friend," Jason observes. This makes Gar laugh, a warm chuckle that he's known for exploding into at exactly the wrong moments. The observation that he's green is so ridiculous, and he thinks it's ridiculous because it's so obvious a thing to point out that Garfield is still taken aback when people do feel the need to mention it. He's especially surprised that's the first thing Dick's brother has said, when he's been hearing about nothing but how smart Jason is for four months.

"Yeah, a green friend. That gonna be a problem, little man?" Jason shakes his head no and, fortunately, doesn't point out that he's actually about the same height as Gar, who is admittedly kind of short for turning-seventeen-in-two-months, while Jason is kind of tall for apparently-just-turned-fifteen-a-few-months-ago. He turns to look at Mr. Wayne now, grinning shyly at him. "Dick invited all of the TT-- well, the original squad-- but I was the only one who could make it. Vic's at his grandparents' place for the next, like, week, Rachel's being... Rachel about it, and I don't remember what Star's doing but she was really, _really_ disappointed she couldn't come."

Bruce groans and knocks his head against the door frame once before stepping to the side. "Come in."

Alfred, he presumes from his neat tuxedo and British accent that Dick often poorly mimics for stories, takes his coat and scarf once he's stepped inside, but he leaves his hat tugged down over his ears. He follows Jason into the sitting room while Bruce stays behind to talk to the butler, and then he sits on the floor in front of one of the armchairs scattered about the room. They're mostly empty, with one couch being occupied by a sleeping redhead and another seat quickly being taken by the teenager that let him in, but sitting in front of the chair feels more natural.

He falls into rhythm with everyone else pretty easily, even if he doesn't exactly know them. He's always considered himself sort of a social chameleon, so he adapts to the small changes as more people arrive with ease. He's mostly quiet when he's alone with Jason and the sleeping woman, who he learns is Kate, because one is unconscious and the other still seems apprehensive about his presence, though not quite mistrustful, which is a good sign. Bruce joins them eventually, and Garfield straightens a bit and lets himself fall into the quiet chatter that the Waynes exchange. He gets along well with Barbara once she arrives, and is thankful that he can say the same for Clark, who he's heard was Dick's idol when they were younger. He probably still is. Lois, Clark's wife, bites back an entire interview's worth of questions about his green skin when he simply explains he was sick as a child and that his parents had to choose between a green son or a dead son, and he thinks she understands so well because of the small child at her side.

He looks to be three or four, but the chatter he picks up on tells him that he's a particularly tall toddler, a few months over one year old. He hides behind his mother's hip for most of the evening, eyeballing Gar with wide eyes like he's curious but also suspicious and ultimately spends his time with his parents over anyone else, occasionally toddling over to Bruce. Gar is surprised by how seemingly good with kids he is, considering how dark and broody he is depicted as in stories.

"So you're one of the Titans," Barbara whispers to him when they manage to break away from Jason, who either knows nothing or is still being kept relatively in the dark about it despite what little he might know. Garfield nods. "You must be Starfire. I'd recognize that smokin' alien bod anywhere."

Gar snorts. He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself burying his sniggers in an open palm at the somewhat bitter joke. Dick has been making googoo eyes at Kori since she crash-landed on Earth a few months ago, and even Gar has noticed that along with the decrease of his stories about Batman and Bruce Wayne, there's been a steady decline in the stories of Barbara Gordon, the legendary Batgirl.

"I'm Barbara." She cuts off his thoughts like a red light.

"I've heard a lot of good things about you," he offers, smiling as though he's trying to fix a problem that hasn't yet started. "I'm Gar."

Dick never shows up. It's something that everyone obviously picks up on, but no one brings up, so he doesn't, either. After they light candles, there's about an hour where he talks to Barbara about what it would be like to retire, to hang up the cape and boots and utility belts and just give it all a rest. She admits that she's thought about it more times than she can count, and he admits that he's never considered it. This has been his life for so long that considering doing anything else is such a strange concept to him, and it certainly doesn't help that he sticks out like a sore thumb in any situation but flying around with the Titans. Being green and able to turn into a giant bird hardly compares to the sorts of stuff that Raven can do. He ends up crashing in one of the armchairs once everyone has left, reflecting on the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea of Gar and Babs being friends.


	4. Koriand'r

Kori does not know how to drive, and so she doesn't. She thinks of a scenario where she sits in the passenger seat of Dick's car while Gar and Rachel try to cram themselves into comfortable positions against each other in the backseat and Victor's large muscles and metal parts take up most of the room they should have. It is a much happier scenario than the one she is really in.

Garfield does not weigh very much and she is much stronger than most humans, so she simply carries him in her arms like a baby while she flies toward Wayne manor. (She thinks. She hasn't been in over a year and Garfield's directions are confusing.)

"Gotham is right across that big bridge, and then Wayne manor is... well, you'll know Wayne manor when you see it." She does not understand this, but keeps flying anyway, squinting down at Gotham's skyline. She has only been to the manor once or twice and has never actually been inside of it, so she doesn't have a clear image in her head of the building. Still, she sees a Gothic building (she does not actually know enough about Earth's architecture to label it as such, but she has heard Gar and Victor describe Rachel as "goth" and she thinks this looks very much like a place Rachel would like to live, so she trusts it) and descends, sure that this must be the right place.

They knock on the door. It is not long before a red-haired woman in a wheelchair answers, looking them up and down. She looks like someone who used to smile a lot. She sees Kori first, eyes the thick purple sweater she wears (she thinks it is from an expensive brand, but she doesn't actually remember) and the light jeans, and then looks at Gar, still in her arms, and a tired smile splits her face. "You must be Starfire. I'd recognize that smokin' alien bod anywhere," she offers, and Kori tilts her head in confusion while Garfield begins to laugh so hard he ends up falling from her hold and onto the snow-covered ground.

"My name is Koriand'r. My friends call me Kori, if you'd prefer, but Starfire feels too formal... Gar said there was a party." The aforementioned boy clutches at his stomach, sitting up and wheezing for breath, and her eyebrows knit together a little in confusion.

"Barbara. It's not much of a party yet. Just everybody interrogating the new kid on the block."

Kori's face lights up as she follows Barbara inside, and she does not have a coat to hang so she smiles at the butler (Alfonse or Edward or some other Earth name she doesn't quite know) and then keeps walking behind Barbara. "Are you Barbara Gordon?" Barbara nods, and she grins like a toddler now. "I thought so! When you said your name was Barbara, I mean. Dick used to talk about you all of the time! He was quite fond of you."

"Dick used to talk about a lot of things," Barbara says, laughing, but she does not sound upset. Kori doesn't know why she expects her to.

It is only another second until they reach the sitting room, and Kori looks around, wide-eyed and fascinated. It is almost as large as Titans' Tower's lounge, and that accommodates almost a dozen people. She cannot imagine having a house this big for only three. (Four? Two?) She sees a boy with dark hair and blue eyes and rushes up to him, positively beaming. "Hello! You look so much like Bruce. And like Dick! You must be the new brother. Tim...?" His cheeks heat up and his eyes slide to the floor. Embarrassment, she thinks.

"I wish he would stop telling people that. I'm not Jason, Bruce hasn't..."

His face scrunches up and he shakes his head, looking up at her. Most boys have to; she is 6'4". His cheeks are still pink, but she does not say anything because she has spoken enough with Earth boys to know that they don't actually enjoy their blushes being called out, no matter how endearing she may find it. "I'm not _the new brother_. I wasn't adopted. I've still got my own dad, I have to be home before ten. I'm Tim Drake... I'm just Tim." He says everything matter-of-factly, like he is trying desperately to prove that he is someone beyond the new Robin. (He's not the new Robin yet, though. Dick says he is due to finish his training and finally don the suit in public in three weeks. He's been dreading it.) He is trying to sound too much like an adult in a room full of people who lost the chance to be children.

"I understand," she says slowly, like she's still mulling over her words. "But you are not _just_ Tim Drake. And you are not a replacement for Jason." He didn't say as much, but the way he flinches at her words tells her he meant it. She sees a hurt kid in him and it breaks her heart. (She sees herself in Tim, a younger sister who was loved and cared for just as much as Komand'r but who always felt like she was just being raised to fill the legacy of the failed child. It is hard to love yourself when you feel like the love you get is a hand-me-down.)

"I know that," he mutters after a moment, but his voice itself says the opposite. She thinks if she digs far enough she might even find a thank you in it. She does not say _You're welcome_ aloud, but she thinks it loudly and hopes he can hear it somehow. It is hardly a second before, as though he has some sort of superhuman hearing, the tall, broad-shouldered man nearby (black hair and blue eyes but _not_ Bruce Wayne) with the square glasses seems to notice their conversation has stalled and approaches.

She guides herself away and takes a seat on one of the nearby couches (much more comfortable than the couch in Titans' Tower, but it does not feel nearly as used and thus it is missing a layer to make it homely). She expects Garfield to see her sitting by herself a second later and immediately take the seat next to her. She doesn't know what occupies him, but he doesn't.

Instead, almost two full minutes later, the dark-haired woman who has intelligence painted across all of her features approaches and offers her a hand. When she takes it, the woman gives her a bright smile and introduces herself. "Lois Lane. Sorry I didn't come over earlier, Jon was being..." She sighs, gesturing in the air. "Jon."

She peers around the room for a _Jon_ , a name she hasn't heard before, and eventually spots a boy, taller than Tim but with a baby face, who pokes at cookies. He has the same dark hair and light eyes of the man who talks to Tim now, but his nose distinctly matches Lois'. "My name is Koriand'r. Or, Kory Anders... It is all so confusing," she admits, and Lois laughs, moving to occupy the seat next to her.

Lois talks to her until she and her husband (Clark, she learns) and son have to leave, apologizing and explaining that they live in Metropolis. This does not actually explain anything for Kori, but she smiles softly and nods and accepts the apologies anyway with promises to see the three of them next year (and suddenly, she realizes, she is being welcomed into the festivities next year; she has been invited into this family and Dick is not even here with her). She is still astonished by how easily she has been accepted hours later, when Gar and Kate have passed out on opposite sides of the couch facing her own and Tim stares into a fire as though taking a mental picture.

Barbara wheels herself over to Kori from where she has been talking to Bruce and smiles.

"Hey," she says, and she sounds hesitant. Kori tries to return the greeting enthusiastically without waking up the sleeping party guests.

She wonders if Barbara always looks like she wants to ask a question, or if that is simply the way she looks right now. She wonders if she actually _does_ want to ask a question. "I am not opposed to the two of us becoming friends if you aren't," she says, even as she knows that's not how people talk. Barbara seems to find it endearing, holding a hand over her mouth to contain snickers. She doesn't say anything for a long minute though, and Kori opens her mouth to talk again before letting it fall closed in frustration. She does not know what to say.

It isn't long before Barbara saves her. "...Is Dick... okay?"

She thinks of long nights last September spent holding him and assuring him that everything would be okay even as she couldn't be certain that they were. She thinks of last November, more than a year ago now, celebrating his birthday with the Titans, starting to tell him that her gift to him was a _break_ only to be interrupted by him breaking up with her. (She wasn't even upset. She still isn't. He needed it. She needed it. They both still need it.) She thinks of the last time they talked, almost three months ago.

"I don't know," she answers honestly, despite how much she wants to lie and be optimistic and say that he is.

Barbara's shoulders do not fall forward in disappointment. This is the answer she was expecting. Kori does not know why this breaks her heart so much. She does not even know Barbara Gordon outside of practical fairy tales, verbal illustrations painted by a man half-in love. Before she can try to reassure her, Barbara starts talking again. "He doesn't even call us, you know? I don't know where he is or what he's doing and it's..." She exhales, and there's so much weight to it. "I want him to be okay."

"I do, too," she says immediately, and Barbara's subsequent smile is sad and tired and not at all weightless like so many of Kori's seem to feel. She does not know how to comfort this woman, but so much of her wants to. "Dick's whole life has been falling and landing on his feet. His whole life is being not okay and making himself okay. It may take him a little while, but... I need to have faith he will get there on his own. We both should."

Barbara smiles and nods, leaning back in her chair. Neither of them says another word, but Barbara doesn't wheel away to continue her previous conversation with Bruce or to talk to Tim, who Kori is starting to suspect has fallen asleep on the balls of his feet in front of the fireplace. She wonders if she should say something. She doesn't. She lets her eyes drift to the menorah, a meaningless piece of metal to her. The candles are pretty though. Fighting for life in a dark room. She thinks it is a fitting analogy for the candles as much as the mishmash of people around her. She lets her eyelids slip closed, thinking that they will surely burn until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tone of this chapter is... different. In this chapter, Kori knows that Bruce is Batman and Tim is Robin (and obviously knows the civilian identities of the Titans), but does not know Barbara is Oracle (she has been Oracle for seven months at this point) or that Clark is Superman (this is their first time meeting).


End file.
